


Killer Queen

by CrazyEyebrows



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Anxiety, Character Death, Other, Panic, Panic Attacks, Sad Ending, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-15 23:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17538077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyEyebrows/pseuds/CrazyEyebrows
Summary: Me venting my ugly mean feelings through ooc Queen fics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Borhap boys aren't yet in the fic, but theg will be.

The screaming could be heard for what felt like miles, Freddie- who wasn't even in their shared house- even wanted to cry.

 "I just don't understand why the  _fuck_ you think my song is so bad! Is it because I wrote it? Sorry Bri- Never claimed to be able to make _You're My Best Friend_ , or _Killer Queen_ , or any of that bullshit!" Roger's gravelled voice broke through the peaceful morning, forcing a sigh and retort out of his band member.

 "I don't hate the song." he said simply. John clenched his jaw, head tilted at the counter. 

 "Then  **what**? Is it me? You hate me!" Roger violently slammed the pan down in the stove, causing John to jump slightly.

 "Don't be fucking ridiculous! You're acting like a bitch, Rog." Brian groaned, head in hands, "Too early for this." Brian mumbles softly. Roger scoffed dramatically.

 "Really? **Really.** I'm the bitch, sure."

 "Well what's that supoosed to mean?"

 "What the fuck do you think, Sugar Tits?"

The angry screaming continued for another half hour, John scared in place. He dared not to move, in fear of his band member and his possible reaction.

_Where the **fuck** do you think you're going?_

_Who the hell do you think you are walking away from me?_

_Don't fucking move._

Scenario after scenario hurled through his head, and his hands started to shake. Brian, nor Roger seemed to notice. John wanted to reach for his drink, but again, didn't dare move. The clouds had been rolling in all morning, and the first loud, noticable boom of thunder brought the three to consciousness. 

 "We should get to work soon..." Brian quietly said, breaking the silence and scratching the side of his cup with his dull, short fingernail.

 "Yeah." Roger croaked, staring at the ground. The fight seemed to be over, and relief washed through John like a drug.

 "I- I think-" He started, startling the two as he had to clear his voice, "I think I'm going to... um... brainstorm song lyrics..." John stood, going to wash his dishes. Roger took them from him.

 "Okay. Practice in two hours. Okay?" Roger sounded guilty for the shouting. Brian, however, coulsn't aswell bite his tongue.

 "If we ever get to practice today." He scoffed quietly, and John quickly left before the fight broke out again.

It seemed his suspiscions were correct, the clouds were low and gray in the sky. more thunder rolled, wnd John was sure it wouldn't before long before the rain would start pouring.

He quickly made his way to his small room, actually thankful for it now that they'd been at Rockfield for a week or so. It was nice, having a quiet and safe place to retreat to when he was hurting. John sat down on his bed, a large creak sounding from the old mattress. He sighed, reaching over to grab a pen and paper, and get to work. 

* * *

 "Three hours, Fred!  _Not half an hour like he said, Not ONE like you said, **three.**_ " John heard Brian's frantic shouting, the emotion in it pulling him from his stupor. 

 "Trust me, Darling, I'm sure he's fine! Maybe he saddled himself with some bird." Freddie suggested, and John frowned. It was obvious they were talking about Roger.  _Had something happened?_

He was quick to throw his notepad aside, scribbles and sad written words facing the bed as he stood. The second he was up the old stairs, he wished he hadn't been.

Freddie was slumped down on the couch, Brian on the ground, fiddling with their broken radio. Freddie had obviously been ready to take a post-shower nap, quite fuzzy looking blue pajama pants being the only thing covering his body alond eith his hair flat and damp against his head. John had the imidiate want to touch him.

Instead, he spoke up.

 "What are you doing?" He asked, again startling two of his bandmates. Before Freddie even had a chance to respond, Brian was patting the carpet next to him.

 "Fixing the radio. Would you come help?" John was startled to see Brian's eyes, horribly bloodshot. His face itself was pink and blotchy, and it became appearent to John that he'd been crying.

 "Sure. Why're you fixing it?" John tried to make conversation, sitting bext to Brian and taking the radio. Freddie sighed.

 "John, Dear... Roger left after the quarrel this morning. Not the one at breakfast- one after that. Were you there?" John shook his head honestly. "Good.. good. Well... It was a few hours ago, and he'd promised to be back in a half hour after a drink. He's still not returned." John's gut did a summersault. He knew now why Brian was trying so suddenly to fix the radio.

 "Is it still raining?" He asked, and Freddie nodded sadly. John's breath hitched, but he helped get the radio fixed quickly with what they had around. 

Brian fiddled with it, and went direct to Rockfield's own news. John turned out the main light, leaving them in a candlelight shadow, barely illuminated as Freddie and Brian listened closely. They all stayed quiet, John going to make some tea for the three of them.

Just as he was putting a sugar in Brian's, they heard it.

 "A car pileup, leading in three unnamed victims. A brunette male, about 5', brown eyes. A blonde male, about 5'10, Blue eyes. A blonde woman, about 5'7, brown eyes." Brian turned down the raduo a little, handing it to Freddie. He looked close to throwing up.

 "Oh God... Fred.. Freddie.. Roger.. He's.. oh God.." John brought the tea to the table, then stumbled down to the couch with Freddie.

 "Oh my god... What do we do?" John whispered, not trusting his own voice. Freddie shook his head, eyes wide and tears spilling.

 "I.. I don't... Know..."

* * *

 

About a week passed after the body was confirmed to be their best friend, and none of the three took to speaking to eachother. News had not yet gotten out to the media due to their recluse state, and John was thankful.

They stayed at Rockfield to finish the album, as they would be broke to the point of no return otherwise- and at the least it gave them something to do.

 "Fred..." Brian started at breakfast, clearing his throat. Unlike how he'd been with Roger only a week prior, he was soft, and quiet. "I was thinking... Um.. could we put R... His car song on the album?" It was unspoken rule, none of them said his name unless strictly nessicarry. John glanced to the doorway, almost expecting Roger to come through. Expecting him to pop out of the cabinet, laughing to the floor and screaming,

 ' _I got you! Now you must put the song on the album!'_

As Freddie silently mulled over the question, John waited for the surprise. 

It did not come.

 "Yes, I supose we can. Only right.." Freddie dived back into his food, forcing the conversation to end there. John felt the thick tension, and didn't say anything.

 "Could we put it on the B-side of your song?" John felt himself say, and was almost shocked at his own words. Freddie seemed shocked as well.

 "Well..."

 "Please. Please Fred. If not for me- for him." John pleaded, and Freddie frowned.

 "...Okay." 

And that was the end of it. They finished the album, using Roger's recorded vocals and drum sounds, along with john taking on the drums for the rest. 

As it came to be time to leave, John found himself not wanting to. He wanted only to curl into the sheets Roger had slept in, sob, and speak his feelings to Roger's pillow. As it was, this would be the final place they saw Roger. John could only imagine the strife Brian must be going through, knowing one of the last things Roger heard was him yelling about Roger not being good enough. John didn't ask him to talk about it.

They continued to not talk about it.

Not as they got a new drummer.

Not as they told the fans.

Not as they informed his parents.

Not as Freddie passed, even, did they talk about it.

John, 18 years later, was 100% complacent not having talked about it.  

Until Brian wanted to.

* * *

 

 "John.." Brian whispered, shaking John in his bed.

 "Huh? Oh- Br-Bri? Brian? Is everything okay?" John sat up, rubbing his eyes. Brian sat down next to John on his bed.

 "Yes.. Um.. Sorry- I suppose it is. I just... needed to ask about something. Can we talk? Please?" John smacked his lips, getting the water from the bedside table. He nodded a little, taking Brian in.

He was wearing one of Roger's old shirts, and it barely fit him. Tight and loose in all the wrong places, he looked asthough it would pop right off within moments. John didn't say anything about it, only set down his water and offered Brian to crawl into bed with him. Brian took the offer, curling up on John like an oversized toddler would their mother.

 "What do you want to say, Brian?" John asked quietly, starting to pet and play with Brian's hair. the act calmed his guitarist down some.

 "I miss him, John. I-I miss them both. So much." He whispered, and John tensed slightly. He hadn't expected this conversation to ever come about. "Every day... I still think about him. It was my fault, you know. I told him.. I told him he wasn't made for writing songs. That- that he wasn't full good enough. John I loved him- I didn't mean that. I feel so terrible." Brian started to cry on John's chest, and John just allowed it.

 "It's okay.. shh. He forgives you, I'm sure of it." John whispers, and Brian holds him tight.

 "Please don't leave me, Deacy. Please never leave me. I wouldn't be able to handle it. Please." He mumbles incoherently, and John starts rubbing his back.

 "I won't, I won't. It's okay."

And maybe, in that moment, it was.

 

 


	2. HhHhhhzh

Roger hurled his book across the room, getting an unsatisfying  _thunk_ as it fell to the ground. He only curled up on the small couch, hands finding their way into his scalp, and teeth biting into his jean clad knee.

It took three moments before John was in the room, looking slightly heated.

  _"Roger."_ He said, in a soft but firm tone. "Did you just throw that?" Roger stayed silent. "You must be joking. I asked you to study for half an hour, in silence. Throwing your book against the wall isn't very fucking silent!" The younger yelled at him, very out of character for the usually put together and quiet bassist. Roger, however, felt very himself as he stood.

 "I don't care! I don't have to fucking listen to you! Get a new fucking flatmate if you hate me that much!" Roger was already starting to cry, not daring to do as he wanted. What Roger  _wanted_ being to crawl into John's arms, apologizing, telling him just how stressed he is, that the words are so hard to read, that everything was mushing together. Instead, he waited for John's response.

 "... Maybe I will. Maybe I HAVE. Maybe Freddie fucking Mercury has been here to check it out because he wants to move in." Roger looked heart broken, assuming it to be truth.

 "I suppose I can't blame you for replacing me so fast." While John tried explaining to him that, no, he was lying, but yes, Freddie does want to move in, but Roger not like-

Roger smalled the door shut and immediately descended down to the lobby. 

 It was raining, because of  _course_ it was. Roger dramatically made his way to his car, also being as fast as possible to get out of the storm. As he started the ignition, he started to cry. Large, fat tears started blurring his vision and rolling down his face, bu he didn't care. He knew Deacy would come after him, so he sped away as quickly as humanly possible- while staying decently close to the speed limit. 

 

discontinued


End file.
